


We Have Come Full Circle

by ForAllLove



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Allusions to loss, Also looms, Angst, Children, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Old Age, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-12
Updated: 2012-12-12
Packaged: 2017-11-21 00:10:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForAllLove/pseuds/ForAllLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and the Master discuss their children.</p><p>Written for the <a href="http://best-enemies.livejournal.com/554374.html">one hundredth drabble challenge</a> prompt, “Children,” at <a href="http://best-enemies.livejournal.com">Best Enemies</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Have Come Full Circle

**Author's Note:**

> I HAVE COMMITTED CUMBERBATCH!MASTER

“I miss them,” the Doctor says to the shadows they cast across the ceiling. “Seems I spend more time running from what could have been than from what was.”  
   
The Master tips his head back against the Doctor’s chest. “And yet I caught you, my dear. Again.”  
   
“I suppose I let you.” His gaze wanders along the sofa, down the length of them, where the Master’s most feline body yet coils amidst his own bony awkwardness. “Blimey, we’re getting old.”  
   
The Master snorts against his neck. The Doctor flutters one hand over fire-lit curls; the other remains anchored in the bit of his bow tie that trails from the Master’s grasp.  
   
“It’s odd,” the Master says at length, frowning. “Unnerving. So much silence now, falling into the places where their voices should be.”  
   
“Not so bad, anymore, with you here.”  
   
The Master squirms, rumbling something meant to sound less pleased than it is, and turns his gaze back to the fire. Equal parts exotic and domestic, he is, the most fascinating thing in any universe and the spaces between. The Doctor settles lower against the arm of the sofa, lulled by the touch of their thoughts, by the beat of their hearts. He twitches when the Master speaks again. “Between the two of us, it should be possible to rig up a rudimentary loom. I believe your TARDIS has a few schematics hoarded in her databanks. The necessary power would be considerable...”  
   
The Doctor has no response for this, so he offers what he can: knees drawn up a bit higher, fingers stroking down beneath the Master’s collar. “ _Theta_ ,” sparks sharp across his thoughts as the Master stills. He smiles into the ginger mop pressed against his shoulder.  
   
“We’ll look tomorrow.”


End file.
